Over my spring break, my friend Kelli and I visited my
college friend, Kelly Jo, in New York. I usually visit Kelly Jo with my
husband, so I was excited to have a girl’s weekend in the Big Apple! We got
there safely (a big concern with our horrendous directional skills and driving
until 3 a.m.) and had a wonderful weekend. The best part of the whole trip?
Big, cotton briefs.
Friday night while we were getting ready to hit up the bars,
Kelli tried on this adorable yellow dress. Kelly Jo and I started dying of
laughter when she turned around and you could see the colorful stripes of her
underwear. She (kind of) fixed the situation by turning them inside out. As the
wardrobe changes ensued, she ended up wearing a different outfit and decided
she would look for a jacket to wear with the dress the next day. Fast forward
to Saturday evening after we’ve grabbed a quick dinner and are walking to the
subway. Kelli realizes that although she has purchased a badass leather coat to
complete her look for the night, she still doesn’t have underwear to wear.
Kelly Jo says, “Just wear those ones you had on with it last night; you could
barely tell and it will be dark in the club…no worries.”
“Um…I wore those last night,” Kelli replies.
“Ugh. Why did you do that? Well what other colors do you
have? Are they that bad?” I ask.
“Yes, like red-striped bad.”
So we look around us. In New York, everything seems sort of
grouped together. Like where we had been (ALL DAY) was full of stores, stores,
and more stores (you know, where you could easily purchase underwear). No
restaurants or grocery stores in sight. But now, as we had eaten…we were
surrounded by 50 restaurants and banks—not a clothing store for blocks. We had
shopped ‘til we dropped and were heading back to get ready pretty late, so we
didn’t want to catch the subway somewhere else. Kelly Jo and I both spotted the
Duane Reade and suggest that they might have some nude underwear.
As we approach the hosiery section of the drug store, we see
a rack of Hanes Her Ways. Okay, so probably not the first choice in the cute
underwear department, but when in a bind they should be fine, right? Kelly Jo
is flicking through the packs and spots a nude pair, “Here you go, Kelli!”
We look and see that, in fact, the only nude or white pair
of underwear in all the multi-packs are a pair briefs. We’re not talking about
cute hipsters or boy briefs; these were full-fledged 80-year-old-grandma
briefs. I doubled over with laughter in the middle of the aisle and tears
started streaming from my eyes. I couldn’t stop imagining Kelli in these huge
things that would stop under her boobs.
Suddenly, second-day underwear didn’t seem so bad.
